


When The Clock Runs Backwards

by dean_n_pie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 17again, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Slash, based on a movi, deaged -to a point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_n_pie/pseuds/dean_n_pie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel got married on a whim when they were 18. 17 years later, both of them want out. It takes a force bigger than the both of them for Dean to realize what a good thing he'll be giving up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I'll add later, I'm on my iPod and it's being a pest~~
> 
> destiel with a side of sabriel
> 
> unbeta'ed

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

It's the last soccer game of the season, and the West Valley Hunters are tied 1-1 with the Eastville Hellhounds. It's the sectional finals, and Dean Winchester is exhausted. He's played for 85 minutes straight, and with 5 minutes left, he's not sure how much more he can do. He glances toward the stands, trying to find the familiar head of messy black hair. He spots it two spaces down from his brother, and smiles toward Castiel. 

Castiel waves, face lighting up instantly. Dean shakes his head fondly, blowing a kiss to him with two fingers, and returns his focus to the game, getting ready for the kickoff to start. 

He cuts and sprints, dodges and fights. In the 88th minute, Henriksen puts one in the back of the net. The crowd goes wild, and Dean (along with the rest of the team) pile on Henriksen. It's the first time they've beaten the Hellhounds in 5 years, and it's clear from the way the Hellhounds walk off that they're all kinds of pissed. 

Dean glances up toward the stands once more, scanning it to see if Castiel is still there. He can see his brother Sam, but Castiel is nowhere to be found. Worried, he scans the immeadiate area around the field, looking frantically for Castiel. He sees Castiel walking off the side of the field, heading toward the locker rooms. Dean claps Henriksen on his back once more, and promises that he'll see the team later at Harvelle's for a celebratory drink. 

He chases after Castiel, catching up to him once they reach the locker room. Castiel barely glances at Dean as they both walk into the confining space. Dean immediately pulls Castiel into a hug, laughing into his hair.

"We did it, Cas,we won," Dean says, grinning.

Cas doesn't respond, removing himself from Dean's grasp. His eyes refuse to meet Dean's. Dean looks at Castiel, trying to find what has him so upset and closed off.

"Dean... My parents are - well, we are - leaving. Tonight. They think you're a bad influence, so..." Castiel laughs bitterly. "They're 'removing the temptation', as they said.

Dean gapes at Cas, mind barely processing the words. "What?" He whispers. Cas meets Dean's eyes, and the muted pain in them almost makes Dean cry out himself.

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean grips Castiel's arms, pleading with him. "Please, Cas, you've gotta stay, you can't just leave... Cas, I'm in love with you!"

Castiel presses a soft kiss to Dean's lips, smiling sadly. "Dean, the last thing I want to do is leave you, but they're my parents. I can't just desert them. I'd have nowhere to go, no money, no anything." He leans their foreheads together, tears starting to form in his eyes. His hands roam over Dean's chest, arms, back. Almost as though he's trying to memorize everything about Dean, for when they can no longer see each other daily.

Dean pulls back, looking directly into Castiel's eyes. "I'm not gonna let you just leave me, Cas."

"Dean, there's nothing more you can do. My parent's minds are made up. I'm sorry."

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me, Cas. That way your parents can't just take you away. And then you can stay with me, we'll live in an apartment and get jobs and be together. C'mon, Cas, say yes. Marry me."

"I-" Cas bites his lip. He looks down at where his hands are loosely entangled with Dean's, and a lone tear finally falls from his eyes. "Dean, I-"

"Cas. I promise you. I will love you forever, I will support you, and I will always put your needs ahead of mine. Please, baby, please just say yes," Dean pleads, gripping Castiel's hands tighter. 

"Yes," Castiel whispers, meeting Dean's eyes. "Yes." His voice gets stronger as he repeats it, hands tightening in Dean's while he starts to smile. "Yes, oh my god, _yes_."

Dean lets out a whoop, throwing his arms around Castiel's waist and picking him up. He presses a kiss to Castiel's cheek, both of then laughing into each other's hair. 

"Oh my god. We're getting married," Dean says, still hugging Castiel.

They link hands once more. Dean fidgets a bit, then pulls away from Castiel.

Confused, Castiel looks at Dean. Dean smiles and gets down on one knee, holding his hand out for Castiel to take. Castiel numbly grabs it, barely able to process what's happening. Dean pulls a ring off of his finger, and then slides it onto Castiel's, looking at him nervously. 

"Uh, it's my mom's ring, but I've always planned on giving it to the one person I wanted to spend my life with," Dean says, stumbling slightly over the words. "And Cas, I want that person to be you."

"Dean, I don't even have a ring, I can't-"

"You don't need to, not yet." Dean smiles at Castiel, joy lighting up his face. Together they walk out of the locker room, pinkies loosely linked, Castiel leaning on Dean's shoulder, into the next chapter of their lives.

\----

"Dean! Come on, you're gonna be late for work!

Dean grumbles, rolling over and hitting the buzzing alarm clock. He runs his hands over his face, rubbing vigorously at his eyes. He pushes the covers off himself, and sits on the edge of the bed, mumbling annoyedly under his breath.

He stands up and stretches, cracking his back a few times. Stumbling into the bathroom, he stares at himself in the mirror.

Unshaven, hair a mess, clothes rumbled from a night of sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. He sighs, leaning heavily against the counter. 

_My name is Dean Winchester. I'm 36 years old and I hate my life._

He itches his stomach, realizing just then how old he's gotten. He brushes his teeth slowly and makes his way downstairs, where Sam is waiting for him with a protein shake. He falls into a chair, resting his head on his arms, still tired.

Sam puts a glass of the protein shake - _is it fucking green, what the hell, Sam_ \- in front of Dean, instructing him to drink it. He sits next to Dean, sympathetic smile on his face. Dean takes one look at Sam and tries to distract himself by taking a sip of the protein shake. He gags. 

"Sam, what the fuck is in this?"

Sam just shrugs. "Not sure, it came in a package. It said it was healthy."

Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam begins to fidget with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Out with it, then."

"Dean, are you okay? Cas threw you out and... well, I know you miss Ben, but you just - Dean, it's been 5 days. You need to go talk to Cas."

Dean winces, remembering the night when his and Castiel's fighting had gotten so bad that it resulted in Ben running to his room and locking his door and Dean getting told to "Get the hell out, I can't even look at you." He stirs his protein shake absentmindedly, not knowing how to answer Sam.

"Dean."

"What, Sam? What do you want me to say? That I'm pissed as hell that Cas isn't letting me see Ben, or that I totally understand why he's doing it? That the fact that Cas wants a divorce is the worst thing that's ever happened to me, and that I can't even blame him? Cas and I - it's a bad situation all around. We moved too fast, and 15 years later, it's all come to a head." Dean stands up, moving over to the counter and washing out his glass. "Nothing's gonna change - Cas is just as stubborn as he's always been and nothing I say will make him change his mind."

"Dean, that doesn't mean you shouldn't try," Sam says softly, eyes looking at the table. "I'm just saying, go talk to Castiel. Maybe he's just as upset by this as you are. And maybe you'll be able to see Ben if you go over there."

Dean snorts. "Right. Because the first thing I would do after a fight is let my soon-to-be ex see my kid." He sighs, then grabs his gloves and heads out the door, leaving Sam staring after him with a sad look on his face.

\----

Dean drives fast. The Impala is used to it, though, and the absence of other drivers this early in the morning gives Dean time to think about what Sam had said. 

His mind and Sam seem to be on the same side. Dean scowls, turning the music up louder. He studies his reflection in the mirror, noticing how lines have started forming around his eyes. He returns his gaze to the road, thoughts beginning to soften. He sighs, battling with his thoughts - _see Castiel, don't see Castiel, talk about everything with him, don't_...

 _This never seemed so complicated before_.

He decides to go see Castiel - and maybe Ben, too - after he gets out for the day. Ben will be home from school then, and they won't be in the middle of dinner. He groans, imagining how the conversation will go. _At least it probably won't be worse than last time. I mean, Castiel can't throw me out if I don't live there, right?_

He makes it to work early, pulling into Singer's and getting right to work. He's been restoring a 1971 Thunderbird for the past week and a half for old Mr. Turner. It's taken a bunch more time than it should have thanks to the whole 'family argument', uh - thing. 

He's just finishing up the preliminary paint job when he hears the door open, with a "Hey, Dean" called out.

"Hey there, Bobby."

"How's the Bird coming? She looks good, Dean. You've done a great job."

Dean smiles - it's rare that Bobby compliments anyone's car job, and when he does you know it's the truth. "Thanks, Bobby. She's coming along well, few more days and she'll be back to her owner." 

Bobby lays a hand gently along the top of the car, glancing down at the open front. "She looks as good as new, boy. Well done."

Dean tosses his tag onto the tool table and collapses in his chair with a lukewarm beer, motioning for Bobby to sit in the chair opposite. Bobby grabs a fresh beer from the fridge and sits down across from Dean, looking at Dean calculatingly. He takes a swig, never taking his eyes of off Dean.

"So, how's everything between you and Castiel? Sam called and told me you got kicked out."

 _Damn it, Sam._ "Everything's okay, I guess. I'm gonna go see him after work today. Maybe talk to Ben. Apologize."

"Do they know you're coming over?"

Dean's forgot how perceptive Bobby can be. "Uh, no, no they don't... But it'll be fine, Cas is probably expecting me to show up anytime soon." He averts his eyes, taking another sip of his beer. He stands up, Bobby's eyes watching him critically as he makes grabs the rag and starts on the car again. 

Bobby stands up as well, muttering a "hope you know just what the hell you're doing here, boy" before leaving to go work on the accounts. Dean sighs when he's gone, rubbing his forehead and wondering if he should have texted Castiel or something instead of just showing up. He figures he'll risk the anger and frustration. At least he'll be able to see Castiel - _and hopefully Ben_ \- once more before the divorce papers go through.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is a bigger project than i intended. but i also had a really good idea that's coming in the next chapter or so... but yeah anyway here's the second chapter and its unbeta'ed also but i do that on my own ((omg look at me i have no idea what to put in my notes ok))

5:00 rolls around quickly - too quickly for Dean's liking. He still has to plan out what he's gonna say to Castiel, what he'll say if he sees Ben, what he'll do if Castiel refuses to even speak to him... 

He uses the 20 minute drive from the garage to their house - well, Castiel's house now - to freak out about what Castiel's reaction will be. He pulls into their two-car driveway, noting that Castiel's car is still there. He nervously walks up the steps to the front door, all earlier bravado gone. He rings the doorbell, then rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans. Ben answers the door.

"Dad?"

"Hey there, Ben. How are you, buddy?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Why are you here?" 

"Dean." And there he is, in all his disapproving glory. Dean straightens his back subconsciously, meeting Castiel's icy stare.

"Hey, Cas. Uh, is this a good time?"

"For what?"

"Just - just wanted to talk for a bit," Dean stammers, not yet used to the frostiness coming from Castiel. 

Castiel pins Dean with a cold glare. "Talk about what, Dean? About how you've been ignoring us lately, 'staying late at work'? Or maybe about the giant fight we had only two nights ago over that?" 

Dean can hear the quotations in his tone, and clenches his fists to stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's not what I wanted to talk about." He closes the door behind him and walks further into the house. 

"Dean, I told you to get out for a reason. It wasn't an invitation for you to come back when you thought it would have blown over."

Dean winces, hearing the hurt in Castiel's tone. He glances over at Ben, who's watching the two of them with a broken expression on his face. "Ben, go to your room. Me and Papa need to talk."

Ben glances warily between the two of them, opening his mouth to speak before closing it and nodding, eyes like steel. Castiel waits until Ben has gone upstairs and shut his door before letting the stony expression fall from his face, leaving a tired sort of weakness behind.

"What do you want, Dean?" Castiel asks, eyes refusing to meet Dean's.

Dean looks at Castiel - really looks, in ways he hasn't for a while. Castiel looks drained, the lines on his face seeming so much more apparent without his smile there. He takes in Castiel's drawn shoulders and small stance, as though he's trying to present a smaller target. Dean walks over and pushes Castiel's chin up, forcing him to look in Dean's eyes. 

"Cas, are you okay?"

Almost immediately, Castiel shuts all the emotion in his posture behind a brick wall, once more the stoic man. He pulls away from Dean's grip, but doesn't move his eyes from Dean's. "I'm fine. And I'll ask again. What do you want?"

Dean stumbles over his words, trying to find the right way to phrase it. "I just - Cas, are you sure we're making the right decision? I mean - I can change, if that's what you need, I can try and be better, I -"

Cas cuts him off gently. "Dean, I think it's obvious that we're both unhappy with this relationship. I mean, maybe we just - maybe we just made a mistake rushing into marriage."

"Cas, do you - You really think this all was a mistake? You think finally getting Ben was a mistake?"

"Ben was one of the only good things that came out of this relationship."

Dean tries hard to remember a time when he and Castiel were really, completely, and disgustingly happy; it's harder than he thought it would be. _Maybe Cas is right_ , Dean thinks. _Maybe it is better to just end it now, before it gets uglier. Before it really affects Ben._.

"Well, uh- if that's what you really think, then I guess nothing I say is gonna change your mind, huh?" 

"No." 

Dean turns away, hiding the pain on his face. He walks slowly toward the door, giving himself - and Cas - enough time to change their minds, to say something and help them come together again.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I am sorry. But this is best for both of us."

"... Right."

Dean only lets the mask fall once he leaves.

_I am such a fucking coward._

\----

Dean's driving home from the bar late when it starts raining. 

"Of fucking course it would start raining," Dean grumbles, rolling up the windows and turning the music up louder to drown out the rain.

He pulls into the lot in front of Sam's house, cursing himself for forgetting a coat that morning. As he runs through the rain - _more like hail_ \- toward Sam's front door, he realizes that his keys were in the pocket of the coat he forgot. His banging on Sam's door - _Dammit, Sammy, why don't you have a fucking doorbell_ \- is drowned out by the crashing thunder and wind. He kicks the door. Nothing. Swearing, he runs back to his car, dripping wet. Dean feels in his pocket for his keys, then glances in the window of the car when he can't find then, noticing them sitting on the dash. He hits the window.

He leans against the Impala, water soaking into his jeans. _I wonder how hard I'd have to hit my head against the window for it to kill me._ He throws his hands in the air and screams. 

All he gets is a mouthful of water. 

Eventually, through the cold and the wet, he falls asleep, slipping down to sit against the side door of the Impala.

\----

Dean's head is fuzzy and his mouth tastes like shit. His eyes open, and his first thought is _well, at least it stopped raining_. He stretches and stands up, using the Impala to help. The events of the night before come rushing back to him, and he groans and buries his hands in his hair. _Well, I royally fucked up with Cas last night_ , Dean thinks. _And sleeping in the rain wasn't such a great time either._

He stumbles up the steps to Sam's front door, and knocks a few times, wincing at the noise. He hears footsteps, and then the door finally opens.

"Uh," comes Sam's voice. "Can I help you with something?"

"Lemme in, bitch, I'm soaked."

"Excuse me?"

Dean stops. He looks at Sam, who looks affronted, before laughing. "Okay, dude, joke's over. Let me in."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"What the hell, Sam?!"

"How the fuck do you know my name?"

Dean gapes at Sam, taking in the general wariness on his face. "Sam, what the fuck is going on?"

"Who are you, and how do you know my name? Did Dean put you up to this or something?"

"Sammy, I'm -" Dean glances in the mirror in the entrance hall, and does a double take. _That's not - That's not me._ He staggers back off the steps, Sam still looking at him suspiciously. He quickly runs to the car, and looks at himself in the side mirror. 

_What the fuck?_

He strokes his - _is this me?_ chin, ruffles his hair, bends his knees. 

"Holy shit," he gasps out, pieces finally clicking together. He looks at Sam framed in the door, then walks to the front door pushes past him to get to the living room. Ignoring Sam's cries of agitation, he grabs a photo off the mantle, and shoves it in Sam's face.

The picture is of him and Sam, standing at their parents boathouse. 17 years ago.

Sam's jaw drops and he glances from Dean to the picture, and back again.

"Holy _shit_."

\----

"So, what the fuck happened yesterday?"

Dean looks up at Sam around a forkful of pancake, shrugging his shoulders. "No' to'lly sure."

Sam wrinkles his nose. "That's disgusting."

"Wha'? I'm hun'ry."

Sam just rolls his eyes. "Seriously, Dean, somehow you got - I don't even know what to call this. De-aged? - de-aged by... by _something_ , and all you can think about is food?"

Dean doesn't dignify that with a response. He finishes off one pancake and spears another. _I forgot how awesome a teenage metabolism was_.

"Dean, just stop for a second. We need to really talk about this. And - don't forget, the hearing is tomorrow for your divorce."

Dean isn't hungry anymore. 

"I don't know, Sam, I really have no clue. All I remember was getting home late after seeing Cas and Ben, and you not answering the door, and me locking the keys in the car and having to sit in the rain. The whole night." Dean brings his plate to the counter and puts it in the dishwasher, trying to remember anything out of the ordinary about the night before. 

"I dunno, man, this whole thing is freaking crazy. I mean, why would someone wanna turn my clock back 17 years? It doesn't make sense."

Sam is quiet for a moment, thoughtful. He jumps up, eyes wide, then runs off to wherever the hell. He comes back clutching a book. He flips through the pages, muttering under his breath as he goes. 

"Aha! Here it is!" Sam exclaims , turning the book upside down so that Dean can read the indicated passage. 

" _Spirit Guides_ ," Dean reads aloud. "What the fuck is a spirit guide and what does it have to do with this?"

Sam just sighs. "Read the damn paragraph, Dean."

Dean looks over the text, key words standing out - _Genie... lifetime opportunity... fix a mistake... you only get one chance. ___

__"So, what? I fucked up my life bad enough that some genie's gotta come help me fix it up?"_ _

__"Something like that, yeah."_ _

__Dean snorts. "Awesome, that's - that's awesome."_ _

__Sam shrugs, looking around at the books piled up around him. "Guess you just got lucky that I'm a mythology teacher at the college."_ _

__"Right, right..." Dean mutters, staring at the page before him. "But really, dude, a friggin' _genie_?"_ _

__"That's what it looks like."_ _

__"This is fucking insane," Dean mumbles. "Genies don't - they aren't _real_ , Sammy."_ _

__"I don't know, man. Yesterday I would have said it was impossible for someone to automatically turn seventeen again," Sam says, looking worriedly at Dean. "I wonder how long this lasts."_ _

__"I dunno, Sammy, why don't you ask the genie?"_ _

__"Jerk."_ _

__"Bitch."_ _

__Dean shuts the book with a slam, leaning back in his chair and groaning at the ceiling. "So what the hell am I supposed to fix? I mean, yeah, there is Cas, but - I can't really fix shit with him if I'm a teenager, dude."_ _

__"I have no idea, Dean. Maybe it's something to do with Ben, not Cas?"_ _

__Dean shrugs. "Yeah, maybe."_ _

__"So what are you gonna do?"_ _

__"I dunno. If it's Ben, maybe I'm supposed to be his friend, help him in school? I mean - I really haven't been paying that much attention to him lately, what with all the crap going down at the garage," Dean trails off. "Shit. Bobby."_ _

__"Dean, worry about that later. Figure this out," Sam prods, typing rapid messages into his phone._ _

__Dean sighs, then racks his mind for a solution. "I guess - is it possible to get me enrolled in the same school as Ben?" He looks over at Sam, who had obviously figured it out minutes ago._ _

__Sam just laughs. "Let me handle that one, Dean."_ _

__He leaves the room to make a call, and Dean is left looking at the pile of books on the table. He flips back to the page on genies. _Fixing a mistake..._ Dean thinks. _Maybe it is talking about Cas after all._ He snorts. _That'd be nice, but even I don't buy that for a fucking second.__ _

__He's drawn from his thoughts by the sound of Sam coming back into the room, collapsing into his chair and smiling victoriously at Dean._ _

__"I called Ash," Sam says, leaning back in his chair. He chuckles, then turns to look at Dean._ _

__"Well, Dean, looks like you're going back to high school."_ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~unbeta'ed~~

"These clothes are fucking annoying, Sammy," Dean gripes, pulling at the jacket. "They don't fit. They're too tight, goddammit."

"They're supposed to be like that, Dean. That's the style. Stop complaining." Sam smiles at the secretary before turning back and muttering, "And don't call me Sammy."

"Right, _Dad_."

Sam flinches. "God, that's just weird."

"Get used to it, dude."

"I'll get used to it when you get used to being Michael Singer."

"But c'mon man, Michael? Michael's the name of some pretentious douche. Why did I have to use that name? Why can't I just stay Dean?"

"Because it's too recognizable. C'mon, _Michael_ , if I have to be your dad, you can deal with the douchey name."

Sam pulls a folder out of his briefcase and hands it over to Dean. Inside are photos - pictures of Dean playing soccer and basketball, pictures of Dean participating in Academic Challenge Bowl, pictures of him on camp retreats, etc. He whistles in appreciation, flipping through the folder.

"Damn, Ash did a nice job. But dude, there's no way I would have been in Academic Challenge Bowl. That's for nerds."

"It's not for _nerds_ , Dean -"

"Just cause you did it, Sammy, doesn't mean -"

"Okay, that's beside the point," Sam says through gritted teeth. "This school won't know that, and you just need to play it cool and try to not get in trouble, okay?"

Dean rolls his eyes, flipping through the folder again. After a few minutes, the secretary motions toward them and indicates that they can go in and see the principal. Dean stands with a groan, muttering a, "Finally," under his breath. Sam hits him on the arm.

The man sitting behind the desk stands when they walk in, moving around the desk and coming toward them with hand extended.

"Hello, Mr. Singer. Mind if I call you Michael? My name is Principal Milton, but you can call me Gabriel. I think it helps my students to feel more comfortable around me."

"Hey," Dean mutters, shaking his hand and slinking toward his seat. Principal Mil- _no, Gabriel_ \- remains standing, reaching toward Sam with a glint in his eye. 

"And you can call me whenever you want to, as long as you're wearing that suit."

Dean gags. "Ew, you did not just attempt to hit on my br - dad."

"Who said anything about attempting?" Gabriel smirks, shaking Sam's hand. Sam looks distinctly uncomfortable, glancing between Gabriel's hand gripping his and the window in the corner, refusing to meet Gabriel's eyes. "So what's your name?"

"Uh - I'm Michael's, uh - Samuel Singer. Just uh - just Sam, please," Sam mumbles out, flustered. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Well, please take a seat."

All three sit, Sam claiming the chair closest to the door, leaving Dean with the seat in front of the desk. He hands over his folder silently, glaring at the top of Gabriel's head once he bows over the folder to look through the contents. Gabriel makes humming noises as he goes, flipping slowly through the transcript records and accompanying photos. Eventually, he shuts the folder and passes it back to Dean. 

"Well, Michael, I can honestly say West Valley High would be lucky to have a student like you. Good academic record, involvement in extracurriculars, and a good student overall."

"Thank you, sir."

"No, no, there's no 'sir' here. Although I like the manners. Just call me Gabriel."

"Uh, okay... Gabriel."

Gabriel smiles. "That's better."

Dean stands up and shakes Gabriel's hand, earning a small smile and a muttered, "Good luck."

Sam steps forward to shake Gabriel's hand. Gabriel winks at him and Dean gags again.

"Remember, Samsquatch. Call anytime."

Sam, recovered from his earlier nervousness, simply presses his mouth in a straight line. 

"Listen, Gabriel, I don't make a habit of dating my... son's teachers."

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything, hmm?"

Sam just rolls his eyes at Gabriel's antics, and releases Gabriel's hand.

"Well, Michael? I need to get back to work and you need to get to your second block class. Come see me if you have any questions. And try not to get in trouble, kid. It's only your first day."

"Sure thing, Gabriel."

Dean and Sam leave the office and separate, Sam going to work and Dean going to class. 

"What do I even have," Dean mutters, trying to figure out his schedule. "Is this - no, wait, that's tomorrow - shit, this wasn't so hard when I went here."

He sees a kid walking by, and rushes over to talk to him.

"Hey, man, do you think you could - _Ben?!_ " Dean exclaims, startled to see his adopted son staring back at him.

"Uh, no offense dude, but how the hell do you know my name?"

Dean internally smacks himself. _Great, how are you gonna get out of this one, Winchester?_ He sputters for a second, racking his brain. He blurts out the first thought that pops in.

"I'm your Uncle Sam's kid."

Ben doesn't look impressed. "Yeah, okay, except last time I checked, my Uncle Sam didn't have a kid, wasn't even married actually. So who are you, actually?"

"No, dude, I'm not lying, uh - listen, Dad had me with a girl named Jess - that's my mom - a long time ago, and they split up a couple months before I was born. I lived with my mom for a while, but uh - she recently died and I moved here with my dad. Just starting school here."

Ben looks more contrite than anything else now, but there's still a lingering distrust in his eyes. "Okay, so let's pretend I believe you. Why hasn't Uncle Sam talked about you before now?"

"Well, uh. He didn't actually know I existed, so there's that."

"Okay, dude. I believe you."

"Awesome." Dean smiles, reaching over for Ben's hand. "My name's Michael Singer."

"Ben Novak." And oh, that smarts. He took Castiel's name now, taking off the 'Winchester' at the end of it. Dean tries to smile, but it comes out more like a pained grimace. He shows his schedule to Ben, and Ben tells him that their schedules are almost identical. They walk together to their next class (Biology) and Ben explains the basic block scheduling to Dean as they walk. Dean tries not to stare at Ben for too long, thinking about the night he and Castiel fought, the times when he neglected Ben for work or something less important. It's harder than he thinks.

Biology goes off without a hitch, and Dean's only two weeks behind - the teacher said it'll be easy enough to catch up at this point if he stays after every day. He and Ben walk to gym together, where the soccer unit is just starting. Dean mentally fist pumps; he hasn't played soccer since high school, becoming too busy with Castiel and work after graduation to continue. 

It's just as fun as he remembers - and Ben isn't half-bad either. The coach is still Rufus, the same old and sarcastic coach he had in high school. But, damn, he knows his shit. 

"No, no, Novak! When Banzer's running through the middle, you pass it ahead, not to him directly! Otherwise he loses all momentum trying to save the shitty pass you handed him!"

Dean grins. _I've missed the old days_. The ball comes to him by means of Thompson, and he beats the remaining defender and blows it by the goalie.

"You! C'mere!"

Dean glances back at Rufus' yell, only to see him glaring at Dean and motioning him to, as he would say, 'get his ass over here'.

He makes it a point to jog over, still mindful of the many practices where Rufus made them run sprints until they puked because they weren't working hard enough. He pauses in front of Rufus, pasting a serious look on his face.

"Yeah, Coach?"

"Listen, son. You got moves. I don't know who you are or where you came from, but I do know I want you on the team. Whaddaya say?"

Dean grins. "I'd love to, Coach."

"Fantastic. Tryouts are Monday."

"Monday. Got it." Dean considers saluting him, but chooses not to risk the punch he'd get after doing it. He jogs back over to where Ben is standing and looking at him with a curious look on his face.

"Whoa, Michael, what'd he say to you? We all know he's a hard-ass, but I didn't think he'd get on your back the first day."

Dean just smiles and claps Ben's arm. "Dude, he asked me to try out for the soccer team. Tryouts are Monday." He looks Ben over, noting the glimmer of what seems to be a mix of hope and jealousy in his eyes.

"You should come with."

"What? Michael, I'm not gonna try out for the soccer team. No way! I wouldn't make the team, and even if I did, I'm not gonna ever _play_ anyway, so it's completely - Ow! What the hell was that for?"

Dean knows how hypocritical it is, but he says it anyway. "Don't be so fucking negative, man. From what I saw today, you're actually pretty damn good. Sure, there's room for improvement, but I bet my baby that you end up starting by midseason."

Ben looks up at Dean, a new intensity in his eyes. "Sure. I'll try out on Monday."

"Sweet! See man, I knew you would do it. Now I'm gonna help you get a starting -" Dean cuts off halfway, an idea forming in his head. "I'm gonna help you get a starting position. That's it."

Ben looks at him curiously. "You okay, Michael? You kinda just spaced out."

Dean shakes his head slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just uh - just thinking about Monday."

Ben still stares at him for a bit, before shrugging and turning away. "Well, gyms over in five minutes, so we gotta go change. Lunch is next, and I can't be late."

"Wait, why can't you be late?" Dean asks, confused.

"You'll see," Ben hedges, refusing to make eye contact with Dean. He quickly changes back into his normal clothes, and Dean follows his example. 

\----

Lunch is a bitch. Or rather, it in itself isn't too bad, but it's quickly ruined by the evil soul-eating monster sitting at the head of the table, otherwise known as Lilith. Ben's girlfriend. 

Dean hates her the minute she walks in. And not only because she's dating his son (and he'll ask Castiel for permission to shoot her later on, after this whole mess is over), but because she is a straight up, cruel motherfucker.

And she's rude to Ben. 

"Ben, can you get me this/that/the other thing?"

"Ben, I told you that I needed it today. Not tomorrow! God, I'm not even surprised, you always flake, ugh."

"Ben, you aren't even trying! Why do I even put up with you?!"

But Dean can't shoot her (in public, at least) so he holds his tongue and settles for glaring at her whenever her head is turned. 

She never even acknowledged Dean, asking Ben once who he was with a curl of her lip. After Ben answered, she simply looked disdainfully at Dean for half a second before turning away and chatting loudly with her friends about who looked the ugliest that day.

Dean rips up ten napkins under the table to occupy his hands so they don't close around Lilith's throat.

Lunch couldn't have ended soon enough. Afterwards, he drags Ben into a deserted hallway, before turning around and whispering, "What the actual fuck?"

Ben looks startled for a moment, before a familiar defensiveness crosses his features. _Oh, that is all Cas, Ben totally learned that from him,_ Dean thinks. A sobering thought counteracts that one. _It was probably my fault he ever had that look in the first place._ He pushes away that train of thought and instead focuses on Ben.

"Look, man, I know she's your girlfriend and all, which I'll ask about later, but why the hell do you let her push you around like that?"

"Because when Lilith is happy, I'm happy. Kinda."

Dean gapes, gobsmacked. "Dude, I may not be the best with relationships, but even I know that's not how it's supposed to work."

"Look, Mike, I appreciate the concern and all, but you don't know the situation. And I just found out we were related today, so you really don't have any right to pass judgement on my relationships okay?"

Dean closes his mouth and rubs his hand over his face. "Fine. Fine. But let me just ask one question. How the fuck did you and _Lilith_ start dating?"

Ben sighs. "Long story. And it's not really meant for guys I met about 5 hours ago, no matter if we're related or not."

"Okay, okay, I get the message. No more prying." _For now, at least_. "At least tell me one of your dads knows."

Ben suddenly turns on him, eyes blazing. "No, they don't. And you're not gonna tell them. Okay?"

"Okay, dude, relax. If it's really that big of a deal I won't say anything." _But you're already a little late about your dads not knowing, kid._

"Thanks," Ben mutters. He turns away and starts making his way to the front doors.

"Wait, where are you going?" Dean calls after him. Ben doesn't turn around, but instead calls over his shoulder.

"It's a study block, we can go home."

Dean races to catch up with him. "How are you getting home?"

"Walking. I live like 10 blocks away, why would I drive on a day like this?"

Dean considers the point. "Okay, then. See you tomorrow, Ben?"

"Sure. I mean, it's not like my dad would let me skip school. He's kinda strict with that."

"He always was," Dean mutters, remembering the days when Castiel would be the only thing forcing him to go to school, his dad being too drunk to even care.

"Sorry, what?" Ben asks.

"Uh, never mind."

"Okay, whatever, Mike. See ya tomorrow. And don't be late, Gabriel might seem cool but he can be just as much of a hard-ass as Coach Rufus is."

"Copy that," Dean says, waving to Ben as he jogs to his car.

He hops in, speeding straight back to Sam's.

\----

Dean barges through the front door, making his way to where Sam is sitting at the table. He pulls another chair up and closes the book Sam had been reading. 

"Jerk, I was reading that!" Sam exclaims, hitting Dean on the arm and grabbing his book back. Dean rolls his eyes and holds the book down on the table.

"Sammy, listen - I know what I'm supposed to do."


End file.
